


The Prince and the Gladiator

by lacewood



Series: The Land of Many Bridges [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Gladiators, M/M, Princes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewood/pseuds/lacewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagami Taiga: A gladiator who's been shipped from one foreign island to another, fighting to win his freedom....<br/>Furihata Kouki: A kitchen servant who just wants to keep his head down, stay alive, and stay out of trouble....<br/>Aida Riko: A knight's daughter with a secret mission to infiltrate a royal palace....<br/>Akashi Seijuurou:  A bored prince with a kingdom to run and a taste for getting into danger....</p><p>This summer, their lives are about to change forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kagami had it all worked out. 

By his count, he’d been stuck in the Ao gladiator halls for three weeks. In said three weeks, he’d won every fight they’d put him to and worked his way up from no-name to the fighter everyone watched and put their money on. Ao’s gladiators were good, he’d grant them that, but Kagami was still better.

Another week of straight wins - and he didn’t see any reason this wouldn’t happen unless they got someone _really_ interesting in - and he’d have won his way out to freedom. Then all he had to do was hitch a boat back to the mainland, and if he was really lucky, no one would have even noticed that he’d gone anywhere at all.

Maybe he’d even have enough time to return a favour or two before he left.

All he had to do was keep his head down and keep winning. It wasn’t hard. Sure, the food was shit, and straw pallets on stone floors got old real fast, but some time after his fifth win they moved him up to his own cell, then up to a _cleaner_ cell, and he could almost believe he was comfortable. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t slept in worse places before.

But that was before he found himself kicked awake in the middle of the night to find two strangers peering down at him. 

“Kagami Taiga?” the man standing over him drawled. 

Kagami sat up, grimaced as his eyes adjusted to the light of the lantern being waved in his face, and said, “Yeah, what’s it to you?” 

“Alright, that’s the last one,” the other man, standing in the door of his cell, said, swinging the lantern back up to examine the list he was holding. “Hurry it up or we’re going to miss the boat.”

“Last what?” Kagami said, glaring at them. Even in the poor light, he could tell they weren’t gladiators, and neither of them were wearing the blue Ao guard uniforms. How had they gotten in and what the hell did they want?

“You’ve been traded to Aka,” the man at the door said. “Their prince got bored with their current stable, and wants some new blood.”

“ _What_?”” Kagami repeated. Being shipped off to a new gladiator hall meant he’d be as good as starting from the bottom again. If they kept doing this, how long was it going to take for him to win his way out? No way this was part of the deal--

“You should be happy, Aka’s gladiator hall is way cushier than this pit. We’re doing you a favour, if you ask me. C’mon, get up.”

Kagami sized up the two supposed traders, eyes narrowed. The hall was dark and silent around them, especially up on the second level, where they housed the fighters who’d won their keep. Deal aside, he knew the gladiator halls traded fighters sometime. But shouldn’t the Ao guards be overseeing this? And why sneak around in the middle of the night?

Anyway, Kagami didn’t feel like leaving just to do this all over again, thanks, and he didn’t see any reason he couldn’t take these two on. 

He cracked his neck and said, “You know what, I don’t think so.”

“Too bad we’re not giving you a choice,” the man said, even as Kagami rolled from his sitting position to throw his weight on his arms and swing his legs in a wide arc, kicking the other man’s legs out from under him.

He stumbled, and swore. “Fuck!”

Kagami was already on his feet and swinging. Thrown off-balance, the trader was too slow to duck again. Kagami grabbed him by the collar and threw him at his friend by the door, only to realise that the other man, faster or smarter, had somehow darted around to get behind him. And the trader recovered fast, pushing himself back up and throwing himself at Kagami, arms flung wide, trying to catch him around the middle. 

He fended the man off with a hard kick to the stomach that made him double over with a chocked curse, but felt his own elbow graze the wall. This wasn’t like the arena - his cell was small enough for one and much too cramped for three. 

“Why do we always get the feisty ones?” a voice behind him sighed. 

Kagami twisted around with a snarl, but too late - or maybe just out-gunned. A punch or kick, he could have handled, but instead, something touched the back of his neck and light burst behind his eyes, flared through his body--

And then there was only darkness.

 

 

Furihata Kouki knew that his family thought he worried too much but right now, he was _really, seriously worried_. About - well, okay, he was worried about everything, but he was used to that. He was especially worried about the Aka palace kitchen, though. 

For one, he was getting a nagging suspicion that someone might have assassinated the old head cook. For another, he was reasonably sure the assassin was probably the new head cook. For a third, quite apart from her potential homicidal tendencies, Kouki had a even more nagging suspicion that the head cook might end her career by _poisoning the Aka royal family_. 

Terrified, he snuck another look at the pot of simmering -- _something_ \-- on top of the stove. “What do you think it is?” he whispered to Fukuda Hiroshi. Together with Kouki and their mutual friend Kawahara Kouichi, Fukuda was one of the servants assigned to kitchen duties for the summer. 

Fukuda stared at the bubbling, slightly blue liquid. “I think it’s meant to be vegetable stew.” He grabbed a ladle from the table they were standing next to, then poked at the contents of the pot. “See, there’s a radish in it.”

Kouki looked. Sure enough, there was a radish in the pot. A whole, unpeeled, unwashed radish. There was also a burdock root, equally unpeeled. As a finishing touch, two peaches floated in the stew. 

Come to think of it, another possibility was that their new head cook might get the entirety of the palace kitchen staff executed for incompetence _before_ the Aka royal family had been poisoned. 

Kouki might not enjoy being a kitchen hand, but he liked being alive and wanted to remain that way. 

He looked around the kitchen at the four new chefs that had arrived together with the head chef. None of them seemed nearly as frightening as she was, although the short-haired young man with spectacles named Hyuuga clearly had a temper.

Something had to be done. After dithering about it for an entire five minutes, Kouki walked over and tapped the new chef called Koganei on the shoulder.

Koganei spun around. “Oh hey, Furihata!” Koganei gave a crooked grin. “Did you want something?”

“Umm,” Kouki said. “The vegetable stew doesn’t seem to be going so well.”

That caught the attention of Hyuuga, who had been busy pounding sesame seeds with a mortar and pestle. “What about the stew?” He stood up and saw the pot simmering on the stove. “Oh.”

“Another Riko special,” said Izuki Shun in a resigned voice. “At least she’s not here, so we can pretend that it burned and we had to start it again from scratch.” 

Hyuuga let out a sigh. “Mitobe.”

Mitobe Rinnosuke, who had been busy preparing sushi, nodded. Tall and taciturn, Mitobe was the only one of the new palace chefs who actually seemed competent enough at cooking to _be_ a palace chef. 

Izuki nodded at Kouki. “Thanks for pointing out the mistake.”

“Er… no problem,” said Kouki. If he was right, the palace kitchen was going to face difficulties much much more complicated than a disastrous stew in the days and weeks ahead. And that was _assuming_ they didn’t get executed first. 

He wondered if he should bribe someone to get him transferred to a different area of the palace. 

 

 

Aida Riko fully recognised that the Aka palace infiltration plan was far from ideal. 

Given a choice, she would much rather have pretended to be a servant. To your average noble, a servant was as good as invisible, and they could find reasons to go almost anywhere in the inner and outer palaces, from the highest chambers to the lowest cellars. Unfortunately, Mibuchi Reo, the chief steward who ruled the Aka inner palace’s servants, possessively regarded the royal family as his own personal flock of ducklings, and could not be moved, persuaded or bribed by any force Riko could command.

The head chef, on the other hand, had been much easier to talk into an early “retirement”. 

Riko would just have to work with what she had - even if it involved pretending to know how to cook. Two weeks in and sixteen ruined pots of stew later, chief among her findings was the suspicion, while examining the kitchen accounts, that she was far from the first person to have persuaded the former head chef to do things he shouldn’t have. 

And on this fine, cloudless morning, while the early summer sun climbed to its peak, Riko headed for the city docks to find out who, exactly, had been doing the persuading. 

Rakuzan, the capital of Aka, was a compact city, laid out with the precision of a military map, the palace planted right in the city’s heart. A long, wide avenue reached from the eastern palace gates to the sea itself, lined with bustling markets and rich inns and, painted in red and gold and orange, the gaudy gambling houses that Rakuzan was so famous for. While Riko couldn’t call herself a native, she could navigate the eastern quarter well enough. It was not a long walk from the palace, down the central avenue, to the white stone piers of the port district. Here the boats dropped off their cargo of wealthy, bored merchants and noblemen, come to Aka to lighten their pockets in the name of entertainment and a few loaded games of chance. 

But if they turned left onto the port road, Aka’s wealthy visitors would realise that the dazzling city front they knew so well gave way soon enough to a less pristine scaffolding. 

As she left the main avenue behind, the stone piers began to look less well-scrubbed. Wooden piers, remnants of an earlier time, interspersed themselves among their newer cousins. The sleek visitor ships with their white sails gave way to a confusing array of boats of every size and shape. Warehouses began to look scruffier, less well-kept. Sailors, labourers and fishermen bustled between the land and sea, loading and unloading, shouting and swearing and arguing. 

Riko wove her way through the crowd until she finally found one marked “Hiraiwa” a little way off the road, a nondescript wooden warehouse tucked among its brethern. 

A couple of men, lingering in the opposite doorway with no clear purpose, eyed Riko as she stopped to check the name-plaque. Fully conscious of the crimson-patterned robe that clearly marked her as as an Aka palace servant, she ignored them and marched in.

A man laden with two crates stacked higher than his head promptly tried to run straight into her. She bit back a yelp and dodged, only to bump into someone else behind her.

“And who the hell are you?” a man’s voice demanded. Riko whirled. 

The speaker was a middle-aged man of average height and build, his only distinguishing features the prematurely grey hair that made him look older than she guessed him to be, and a stare that might have been intimidating if Aida Riko had not been well-trained to its like. 

She said, briskly, “I’m looking for Hiraiwa Koji.”

“That’s me,” the man said, and gave her a suspicious once over. “You’re from the palace. What d’you want? The latest shipment just came in, we have work to do. I don’t have all day to entertain more unreasonable requests from your prince.”

Straight to the chase, no time wasted on small talk. Riko smiled. “Strange that you should ask, because I came to ask what business you had with _us_. Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private. I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”

Something about her smile seemed to give the older man pause. “Fine. Let’s make this quick,” he said, and yelled over his shoulder. “Tanimura, finish up the paperwork! Make sure you don’t mess up the customs form again, got it?” 

She followed him up a narrow flight of stairs to a room under the rafters, where a couple of futons, messiily rolled up, languished in the corner. A rickety railing left the room open and gave them a view of part of the floor below, where Riko counted four men moving to and fro with more crates and boxes, their contents indeterminate.

Hiraiwa folded his arms and said, “Well? What business do I have with you?”

“My predecessor left rather hurriedly, so it seems he didn’t inform you. I’m the new head chef at the palace.”

Hiraiwa looked skeptical. “A little young for the job, aren’t you?”

Riko produced the royal seal she kept tucked in her obi and let it gleam in the sunlight. “My age has nothing to do with it. You needn’t worry yourself there.”

When Hiraiwa didn’t say anything to that, she continued, “But I’ve only just started, and I’ve been busy making sure everything’s in order. Some things were in a shocking mess. For example, the accounts. Imagine my surprise to see that we seemed to receiving money for reasons no one could explain to me. Money that seems to be coming from you.”

She stopped and, still smiling, waited. Hiraiwa shifted his weight and glanced quickly at the warehouse below. The nervousness was beginning to show. 

“Stupid bastard, he was supposed to sort out the numbers so there wouldn’t be any problems,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“Oh, he tried. But I suspect he wasn’t as good as numbers as he thought he was.” He certainly wasn’t as good as _Riko_. 

“Alright, so you know I was paying him off. Doesn’t have to mean anything. What do you want?” Hiraiwa demanded. 

“Hmm,” she said. “Your little ‘arrangement’ has been going on for at least three years, and no one seems to have noticed yet. I hope you understand that I don’t want to jeopardise my position, but perhaps I could overlook something… minor.”

She could almost see the tension drain out of him. “That’s… reasonable. It’s a small favour, all I need is help taking care of some deliveries to the palace. Seeing that they get to the right people.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Nothing _too_ illegal, I hope?”

“No!” he said, a little too quickly. “No, just some small… trinkets. For nobles who want to skip the middleman and get a better price straight from the source.”

Riko pretended to look thoughtful. After a long moment’s consideration, she let a little doubt creep into her voice. “That doesn’t sound too difficult, but I don’t know… after all, I’m still new, and there are so many things to take care of, I don’t know if I should add one more worry to the list...”

Hiraiwa scowled. “Oh, and you couldn’t just say that straight to start?” he said, impatient. “You seem smart, I’ll give you that. I’ll raise the payments by one silver but that’s all you’re getting out of me. My margins are low enough as it is.”

Riko beamed. “I can see we’ll have a long and fruitful acquaintance, Mr Hiraiwa.” She offered a hand and, looking even more disgruntled, he shook it. 

“The delivery’s tomorrow evening, I’ll send my boys over the goods and the list, meet them at the southern gate. Anything else you need to know?”

“That seems clear enough,” Riko said. “I’ll take my leave then.”

“Boss, the paperwork’s done!” Tanimura called. “You want me to just send it over straight? They’re just waiting for the forms before they release the goods.”

Hiraiwa waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, just go,” he called back, as he fished a black pipe and a small green pouch from his left sleeve.

Riko watched as Tanimura jogged away. Walking quickly, but not so quickly that she seemed to be in a hurry, she followed, then took a turn to the right before he did. Shrugging out of her sleeveless red over-robe, she rolled it up so only the white lining was visible, a shapeless bundle of fabric tucked under her arm. Her yukata, blue and white, was plain enough that no one would look long enough to realise that it was too fine for the neighbourhood.

Plucking the ornamental pin she wore from her hair, she tucked it into her sleeve and kept walking. Once she’d hit the main port road again, she scanned the crowd and caught a distant glimpse of Tanimura’s back. She sprinted after him, elbowed a labourer in the side and caught up just as he hailed the port official who stood waiting at the end of one of the long wooden piers. 

There was no chance Riko could get close enough to eavesdrop. She squatted in the shadow of a pile of crates, and watched as Tanimura handed his papers over to the official. The woman shuffled through the sheaf, nodded, and waved her approval at the waiting ship. Her work done, she set off, leaving Hiraiwa’s ship to unload. Riko took note of the ship’s name, Shinkyo, and watched as the ship’s guards disembarked, then began - she blinked. Leading their cargo off the ship?

A string of men, manacled and chained, were marched onto the pier. Gladiators, she realised, seeing the swirling black tattoo marked on the first man. But what was Hiraiwa doing shipping gladiators? He’d talked about “trinkets” for the nobles, but a trader who dealt in baubles or other inanimate goods was unlikely to also deal in live cargo. It didn’t add up. 

The last gladiator, tall and red-haired, was dragged off the ship. After the men had been led away to be, at a guess, taken to the gladiator hall, and Tanimura had left, Riko stood and dusted herself off.

One reasonably lucrative business deal and some interesting, if confusing discoveries. 

Not bad for a morning’s work, she decided, and headed back to the palace to see if her stew was done simmering yet. 

 

 

Akashi Seijuurou, crown prince to the kingdom of Aka and the 22nd person to hold that title, walked through the hallways of the palace with a purposeful yet leisurely air. It was an air he’d cultivated and refined over a lifetime of being royalty. 

He walked with the assurance of a prince who had spent his morning wisely and productively. For the last four hours Akashi had been attending court affairs in his father’s stead. He had issued three edicts, raised taxes on nobles and lowered them on merchants, solved a land dispute, pardoned a convicted thief, granted two knighthoods, and prevented two of his father’s ministers from fighting a duel to the death by offering to exile them both instead. 

He was seventeen years old. 

As always, he felt the watching eyes of the royal guards as he made his way through the palace complex. He exited the great hall and passed through the manicured gardens that separated the outer palace from the inner palace. Outside, the air was sweet with the smell of flowering shrubs. 

He walked past the the servants’ quarters at the back of the palace, and stopped in front of the main gateway. The drawbridge had been let down and the iron gates were open, but the entrance was still guarded by two young men, who stepped in to bar Akashi’s path. 

“You’re not to be allowed out without an escort, your highness. King’s orders.”

Akashi stared very hard at the guard who’d spoken. “Shunsuke. Futoshi. Step aside and let me through.” 

Shunsuke looked nervous -- he was a new recruit, freshly trained -- but stood his ground. “No. We have our orders.” 

Akashi let out a sigh. “Well then, if you insist on doing this the hard way.”

Two minutes later Akashi was crossing the drawbridge and Shunsuke and Futoshi were both sprawled on the ground. They really were too inexperienced to be assigned to guard the entryways to the palace. 

It was just as well that the Akashi family were currently at peace with all their neighbours and most of their citizens and there was no reason to suspect any sort of royal assassination or violent threat in the near future. 

Now if only Akashi could say the same thing about larceny, smuggling, and theft, then Aka would be an uneventful kingdom indeed.

Akashi went down the side street that took him to the gladiatorial arena and its associated residential hall. The side-entrance to the gladiator hall was locked, as usual. Akashi reached up and ran his fingers through the bamboo wind chimes that served as as an informal doorbell. 

After a short wait, the door opened and Kiyoshi Teppei looked out, smiling. “Prince Seijuurou! What a pleasant surprise.”

Nothing was ever truly a surprise to Kiyoshi Teppei, knight of the Nijira Isles and overseer of Aka’s gladiatorial arena. Akashi raised an eyebrow. “I believe the last time we met I told you to expect my visit.”

“Of course. Come in,” Kiyoshi said, stepping back to let Akashi in. “We can talk in the parlour.” 

As Akashi entered the building he heard footsteps echoing through the gladiatorial hall, and the sound of voices. Then there were shouts, followed by a thud -- and then momentarily, silence. 

“The new shipment has come into town, I see,” said Akashi, as they sat down on the tatami mats.

“The boat sailed into port this morning while court was in session.” Kiyoshi smiled. “The new gladiators are -- still undergoing orientation.”

Another series of thuds sounded upstairs. 

“I can certainly hear that..” Over the years Akashi had built up many reservations about Kiyoshi Teppei - his ridiculous sense of humor, his tendency to rearrange other people’s lives when he deemed it best for them (a trait Akashi valued in himself, but disliked in other people), his _height_ \- but there was no denying that Kiyoshi was excellent at his job. “Will they be ready in time for tomorrow’s games?” 

“I’m afraid not.” At Akashi’s frown, Kiyoshi added: “Don’t be in such a hurry, Sei-chan. It’ll spoil the fun if you defeat everyone before we can get any new gladiators in.” 

“Do not address me with familiarity unless I have given you permission to do so,” Akashi said coldly. “I will participate in tomorrow’s lists, of course, even if I won’t have the chance to spar against the new arrivals.”

“Understood. I’ll find someone suitable to be your opponent.” Kiyoshi inclined his head. “I understand that Hanamiya plans to source gladiators from Ki next time.”

Their eyes met. Akashi pressed his lips together tightly. “Makoto grows bolder by the month,” he said finally. “In the past his moves have been predictable, although clever. This time however he seems to be busier than usual, which means he has a greater goal in mind. And I am not certain what it is."

Kiyoshi looked thoughtful. “The gladiator shipment arrived in Aka this morning, which means it would have left Ao in the middle of the night. A strange time for ships to set sail.’

“I will write to Princess Satsuki and see what news she has of the Ao ports and Ao gladiator halls.” Akashi stood up. “Thank you for your time, Teppei. I have one last favour to ask of you.”

“Your wish is my command.” Kiyoshi stood up and looked down at Akashi. 

“I have heard that there have been several changes of staff in the palace kitchens. I have no reason to suspect there is anything more untoward than the usual petty theft and bribery going on, but I would appreciate it if you took some time to assess the situation.” 

“The palace kitchen, huh? I’ve been wondering about it myself.” A slightly pained expression covered Kiyoshi’s brows. “Their catering has certainly…. seen some changes of late.”

Changes? Akashi was curious as to what circumstances could elicit such a visible reaction from Kiyoshi Teppei, who was ordinarily guarded about his emotions. Unfortunately Akashi was due to meet with a group of foreign dignitaries for lunch today and didn't have time to probe further. “I’ll entrust the task of observing the kitchen staff to you then.” 

“I’ll report to you if I find anything significant.” Kiyoshi followed Akashi out to the side door through which Akashi had entered the building. “Good luck in the gladiator tournament tomorrow, Your Highness.” 

“Thank you, but I have no need of luck.” Akashi walked out into the sunlight. “I am always prepared for my battles. And I always win them.”

 

**End Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kagami discovers the perils of palace stew, Akashi meets Himuro (in a dress) and everyone discovers the perils of Kiyoshi being Kiyoshi.

Against all odds, the asshole traders turned out to be right. The Aka gladiator hall was definitely nicer than Ao’s. 

Even from the little Kagami saw in passing, their arena was clearly bigger than the Ao one. The stone and wood building and attached residential hall had been scoured so clean they looked like they could be new, with bright red banners fluttering from the roofs. The training yards were spacious and well-equipped, all the gladiators were given their own cells, regardless of ranking, and the sleeping pallets even looked cleaner. It wasn’t like the Ao gladiator hall had been a hovel, but this place was definitely showing it up. 

Not that this was making Kagami feel much better.

Sure, the place looked nice, but the amenities didn’t make up for the fact that he’d basically been dragged here against his will to be stuck for however long it took him to fight his way out  _this_  time.

The knight showing the new gladiators around, a tall, well-built man with an easy smile, had introduced himself as Kiysohi Teppei. Tour over, having led them back to the first training yard he’d shown them, he waved vaguely at the tower that they could see in the distance, tall enough to loom over the arena

“The gladiators are very popular with Aka’s nobles and visitors, and the royal family is known to be very generous. So I hope you’ll find your time here comfortable. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to let me know,” he said with an affable smile. Looking at his face, Kagami could almost believe they’d been invited to a leisurely stay at the palace itself, rather than getting shipped here to fight for the entertainment of the bored and wealthy. 

If they were this close to the palace, at least that explained why they kept the place looking so good. 

One of the new gladiators, a wiry guy around Kagami’s age, immediately waved an arm and demanded, “When do we start? What’s the schedule?”

“Haha, in a hurry already? I figured I’d give you guys a day to settle in, your first fights start the day after tomorrow. I’ll try and put the rosters up by tonight.”

When no one else seemed to have any questions, Kiyoshi squinted up at the sky and said, “Looks like it’s nearly time for lunch. Why don’t you guys head over to the canteen? You must be hungry after the boat ride.”

Given that the traders hadn’t bothered to feed them at all on the boat, Kagami was starving. He followed the pack to the canteen, still empty for the moment apart from the newcomers. Unfortunately, the food didn’t seem to be much better than Ao’s, but it was filling and there was more than enough to go around, so Kagami figured he could live with that. 

He’d just sat down at one of the long tables at the side when the wiry gladiator parked himself on the opposite side. 

“Are you really going to eat all that?” he said, giving Kagami’s tray an impressed look, even though the mountain of rice on his own tray was at least two thirds the size of Kagami’s. 

Kagami didn’t bother answering, just eyed him warily while he shoveled a generous helping of rice and meat into his mouth. When the other boy didn’t go away or look discouraged at his reception, he finished chewing and finally said, “You’re from the Ao hall too? Don’t think I saw you around.” 

He wasn’t exactly close to anyone in the Ao halls, but most of the faces here were familiar to him as fighters he’d noticed were pretty good, and he even remembered some of their names, like Papa, the towering, dark-skinned gladiator at the other table who’d hit his head on the door coming in. 

The other boy grinned and said, “Yeah, I was new. Only there for a week, and then this happened. Tsugawa Tomoko. Remember the name!”

He nodded. “I’m Kagami Taiga.”

“Oh, I already knew that.” When Kagami stared at him, Tsugawa’s grin widened. “Come on, everyone in Ao knew who you were. You were the guy to beat!”

“Uh. Thanks?” Kagami said. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll meet each other in the ring after all,” Tsugawa said. 

“Maybe,” Kagami said. Tsugawa seemed to like a good fight and he was too persistent to be easily intimidated or discouraged. He might be interesting to face in the arena. “Guess we’ll see, huh?”

As they ate, other gladiators began to trickle into the canteen, eyeing the new arrivals with interest from the other side of the hall. Kagami was done with his first serving and considering a second when he saw Kiyoshi come in. Standing, he headed across to waylay him before he could get a tray.

“Hey, you the guy in charge of the fight roster?” he called. 

Kiyoshi gave him a quizzical look. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“Put me up for tomorrow,” Kagami said. “I don’t need an extra day just to lie around.” He was wasting enough time today. 

“The schedule for tomorrow’s pretty full,” Kiyoshi told him. “But I’ll see what I can do, hm?”

That was probably about as much as Kagami could expect. “Sure. Thanks,” he said, with a quick nod. 

“Finished your lunch already? You eat fast,” Kiyoshi said conversationally, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Get more! Plenty to go around, and growing boys need lots of feeding.”

Kagami eyed the spread of food, and noticed a pot that the end of the table. Lifting the cover, curious, he gaped at the contents. The pot was still full - no one had touched it yet, and Kagami couldn’t blame them because it looked like it might be… blue… and two peaches, whole and unchopped, bobbed ominously on the surface. 

“Ah, the palace contribution!” Kiyoshi said from behind him. Kagami turned to stare at him. 

“The palace…?”

“Yes, sometimes the palace kitchen sends us some food when they have extra,” Kiyoshi said. “I told you they take good care of us in Aka!”

Kagami knew that some of the food in the Nijira islands was a little different from what he was used to, but he wasn’t sure this qualified as exotic or just inedible. But if it came from the royal palace, it had to be fine. Right? 

“Why don’t you give it a try?” Kiyoshi suggested. 

Kagami hesitated. Gut instinct told him to put the lid back on the pot and forget that he’d ever looked, but Kiyoshi looked perfectly well meaning and helpful - and palace food couldn’t be that bad. Maybe this was just some weird Aka island way of cooking.

He ladled a spoonful of stew into a bowl and slunk back to his table to stare at it. Tsugawa paused in the middle of stuffing his face to lean over and prod the peach sitting in Kagami’s bowl with a chopstick. 

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asked with morbid fascination. Kagami jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“He says it came from the palace kitchen.”

Their eyes met across the table. “So, what are you waiting for?” Tsugawa said. 

It was too late to back down now. Kagami took a deep breath, lifted his spoon, and ate his first mouthful of mystery palace stew at the same time that, Tsugawa licked the stew from his own chopstick. 

Kagami’s first thought was that it didn’t actually taste so bad. In fact, it didn’t seem to have much taste at-- Across the table, Tsugawa’s face froze in a rictus of horror. Too late, Kagami tried to blink and realised that he couldn’t because his muscles had locked. He couldn’t feel his tongue, and the numbness was spreading, too fast. 

_Shit_ , Kagami thought to himself, right before everything went black again for the second time in the past day. 

 

 

  
The main problem with the Queen of Aka's luncheons was that they inevitably stretched out to encompass afternoon tea as well. Occasionally, they lasted until dinner time.  
  
Today was no exception. Two hours into the ordeal Akashi could feel his veneer of grace and courtesy, already taxed by the morning's court session, beginning to crack.  
  
There were no signs of the party ending anytime soon. Palace maids in their blue-and-white robes continued to serve finger foods and sake from lacquer trays. As was usual, latticed folding screens had been placed in the dining hall as partitions. These served to contain the noise and laughter of some two dozen guests, several of whom were already severely inebriated.  
  
For the last fifteen minutes Akashi had been engaged in politely refusing an invitation to marry the King of Sannoh's eldest and widowed daughter. The envoy from the kingdom of Sannoh was corpulent, tipsy, and about three cups of sake away from roaring drunk. He had been a terrible conversationalist even when sober, and inebriation was not helping him.  
  
Akashi was just wondering whether the King of Sannoh had deliberately sent his least competent diplomat to the Nijira Islands or whether Sannoh politicians were all genuinely that dismal, when he noticed his mother approaching with a familiar smile on her face.  
  
Akashi recognised that smile. It meant that the Queen of Aka Had Plans.  
  
The queen stepped elegantly into the space between her son and the Sannoh envoy. “My dear Lord Kitamura, I'm so sorry to interrupt your conversation. May I borrow Seijuurou for a while?”  
  
She ushered Akashi away and around a folding screen to the westernmost end of the hall. “There's a girl about your age who looks quite lonely. I thought the two of you might spend some time together.”  
  
Akashi followed the direction of his mother's gaze. “She doesn't look lonely to me.”  
  
The girl in question was standing by the window, surrounded by a group of middle-aged ambassadors who appeared to be enthralled by her presence. Akashi couldn't see her face clearly from where he was standing.  
  
“She's taller than me,” said Akashi.  
  
“ _Is_  she? I hadn't noticed.” His mother's fingers came to rest on his shoulder with light but definite pressure.  
  
Akashi considered his alternatives. There really were none. He stifled a sigh and went over to join the small gathering.  
  
The girl was indeed a good three inches taller than he was. She wore a long high-waisted dress of white silk. A lavender-coloured diaphanous overgown covered her shoulders, but left her collarbones exposed.  
  
She greeted Akashi with a half-smile as he joined the group. “Your Highness. You honour us with your presence.”  
  
He bowed politely. “My lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”  
  
“My name is Himuro Tatsuko.” Lady Himuro's accent, like her gown, identified her as a visitor from the mainland. Her hair was black and sleek, with a long graceful fringe partially concealing her face; the one eye that Seijuurou could see was dark and pretty. “Your reputation precedes you, Lord Seijuurou. I have heard much of the riches of Aka Isle and of the wisdom and ability of its rulers.”  
  
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You flatter my family, Lady Himuro. I trust that we may not disappoint your expectations too much. Have you sojourned long in the Nijira Islands?”  
  
“A little under a month.” She had the clever trick that some girls had, of looking demure despite her height; she almost managed to make Seijuurou forget that she was essentially staring down her nose at him. “I arrived here with some very close friends of mine – almost family, shall we say – but unfortunately our travels were interrupted when our airship ran into engine trouble. While waiting for repairs to be completed we parted ways to explore these isles, and I decided to satisfy a lifelong desire of mine to visit the kingdom of Aka.”  
  
“I believe you will find our hospitality adequate. Would you care to go out to the palace gardens and catch some fresh air?” The Queen of Aka might have left her son no choice about socialising with a taller foreign girl, but at least he didn't have to do it while stuck in this dining hall.  
  
He led Lady Himuro through the main palace building and out into the front courtyard. The Aka palace gardens, famed for their horticultural style and restrained aesthetic, were usually too crowded at this time of the day to be a pleasant place to have a conversation.  
  
“You come from Teikou, I presume?” asked Seijuurou, naming the mainland's largest empire. Himuro bore the dress and mannerisms of a girl from Teikou's upper class. “Rakuzan City must seem very provincial to you.”  
  
She threw Seijuurou a sidelong glance. “Somehow you don't sound entirely sincere when you say that, Lord Seijuurou, Even on the mainland we know that Aka Isle's culture and riches are second to none anywhere in the known world – even if, perhaps, the continental countries hold the advantage when it comes to military might.”  
  
“It's true that the Nijira armies are small.”  
  
“But you have other means of defending yourselves, I hear.”  
  
They had stopped by the great fountain in the middle of the Aka Palace courtyard. Three-tiered and built in scarlet stones, its fountain bed was lined with pebbles in a thousand shades of color. In the bright sunlight the water, falling down from one tier to the next in a translucent curtain, shimmered with the colors of the rainbow.  
  
“I've heard of this fountain,” said Lady Himuro. “They call it the First Bridge, do they not? A magical gateway that transports you to a thousand other places; a transportation system unique to the Nijira Islands.”  
  
“They do,” said Seijuurou. “Though it has not been used for some time.”  
  
The Bridges of Nijira had been down for nearly a decade now. It was so obvious that even foreign visitors knew, these days.  
  
He felt a frown crossing his forehead and pulled it into check. It wouldn't do to show weakness in front of a visitor from Teikou.  
  
Fortunately Lady Himuro seemed to be preoccupied herself. She had sat down by the fountain's edge and was running a hand through the water. Akashi could see her silhouette mirrored imperfectly in the water.  
  
He said: “There are other Bridges on Aka Isle that you should visit, if you have the time. There is one in the town square, in the form of a great statue of the first Nijimura, that remains well-preserved to this day. There are two Bridges deep in the mountains, which can only be found by hiring a local tour guide. Of course, none of them are in use at the moment.”  
  
Akashi expected her to question him, as most foreigners usually did. Were the Bridges a myth? Why didn't they work anymore? What did the royal families of Nijira expect to do about it?  
  
But she merely looked up at him and smiled. “I'd like that very much. I'll make sure to visit them while I'm here. Would you recommend that I attend the gladiatorial games while I'm here?”  
  
“Of course I would,” said Akashi, not missing a beat. “There will be a list tomorrow. If you care to attend I will certainly procure a seat for you.” Akashi was not concerned by the fact that he was fighting in the gladiatorial games tomorrow. He had navigated this particular set of difficulties before.   
  
“Thank you,” said Lady Himuro, and her smile grew sharper. It occurred to Akashi that Himuro reminded him a little of his own mother. It was not a reassuring comparison. “I'll look forward to it.”  
  
  
  


  
The Queen’s lunch-cum-tea-but-not-quite-dinner party was finally, mercifully, over.   
  
The morning’s unsuccessful stew aside, there were no culinary disasters; all the other dishes had turned out fine, there was more than enough food to keep up with the Queen’s unpredictable requests, no one dropped or spilled anything on anyone important, and one of the guests, an almost imposingly elegant young woman, even came by personally to comment on how much she’d liked the minced chicken skewers.   
  
Riko beamed at the compliment, even as she felt a guilty pang about accepting it in Mitobe’s place.  
  
“I’ll be sure to pass your kind words on to the assistant cook,” she said, as she ushered the guest out of the servant quarters.  
  
“Oh, but I was hoping--”  
  
“The recipe is a royal secret and we would never dream of sharing it!” Riko announced, then politely, but firmly, shut the door behind her.   
  
She leaned in the doorway for a moment and sighed. Fortunately, after her lunch party the Queen wouldn’t expect more than a very simple supper, to be served much later. That should give the kitchen staff an hour to catch their breaths and worry about less stressful things like washing the dishes. Riko had known running a royal kitchen was going to be a lot of work, but she hadn’t reckoned on the Queen’s fondness for parties that never ended. At the rate they were going, they were all going to be too busy cooking to actually find out anything.   
  
Riko was tired enough that she allowed herself a moment of doubt. Maybe this wasn’t going to work. Maybe they wouldn’t really find anything useful at all. Maybe she’d dragged everyone into this for nothing--  
  
Straightening, she pulled her shoulders back, glared at the opposite wall and slapped both hands to her cheeks, brisk enough to sting. Alright, that was enough worrying. Maybe this would work. Maybe this wouldn’t. But Aida Riko hadn’t met a challenge she couldn’t run into the ground yet and she didn’t intend to start now.   
  
Marching back into the kitchen, Riko scanned the room and came to a surprised stop. The palace kitchen had two entrances - the door she had come through, that linked it to the rest of the inner palace, and the back door, that led to the kitchen yard outside. A tall young man Riko had never seen before was standing in said back door now. This was nothing peculiar in itself - the palace was an insatiable beast and a constant stream of nameless deliverymen bearing livestock, foodstuff, crockery and exotic ingredients were needed to keep the palace, staff and royalty alike, fed.   
  
What was unusual was that the stranger wore the white tunic and black trousers that Riko recognised instantly as a knight’s uniform. He had left off most of the armour apart from his leather shin guards and he wore no weapons she could see, but the red sash around his waist marked him as a member of the Aka contingent, and the gold tassel hanging from the sash said he had to be a well-ranked one at that.   
  
Hyuuga, who must have noticed all this but seemed to be pretending he hadn’t, stood in the knight’s way, arms folded. “I  _said_ , the head cook isn’t here right now. If you really need to see her, you can state your business and we’ll pass the message on.”  
  
“But--”  
  
“No buts! I don’t care who you are, you can’t just wander in here because you feel like it.”  
  
Riko decided she had better step in before Hyuuga mortally offended someone potentially important. Furihata and the other kitchen hands appeared to be trying to will themselves invisible from behind the big white kitchen stoves. “Is there a problem?” she called out.   
  
Izuki, who had been hovering in the background with a worried expression, gave her a relieved look as she made her way across the kitchen.   
  
The knight looked up. “Oh, are you the head cook?”  
  
“Yes,” she said, coming to a stop at the back door. Hyuuga stood by her shouler and she could feel him scowling even without turning her head. “Is anything wrong? I don’t believe Aka’s knights are usually in the habit of visiting us.”  
  
“Ah, is that so? I’m sure I can’t see why not! Anyway, my name is Kiyoshi Teppei, I’m the knight in charge of the gladiator hall.”  
  
“We are honoured with your presence,” Riko said with bland politeness. The gladiator hall? That explained the rank, which was especially impressive considering that he didn’t look much older than them. “How may we be of assistance?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t really need any help,” Kiyoshi said. “But I noticed that the palace kitchens have been especially generous lately, so I thought I should come down and thank all of you personally.” He beamed at Riko, then transferred the smile to the rest of the kitchen staff.   
  
Riko, who remembered all too well how this morning’s stew had turned out before Furihata had been sent to dispose of the evidence - by sending it to the gladiator hall - felt her smile freeze for the briefest moment. Beside her, Hyuuga made a strangled noise. She jabbed him in the side before he could do something incriminating.  _More_  incriminating.   
  
“It’s nothing!” she said brightly, when Kiyoshi turned his attention back to them and blinked to see Hyuuga doubled over. “It’s the least we can do.”  
  
“The gladiators have really appreciated it!” Kiyoshi said to them.  
  
“I’m glad to hear that,” Riko said.   
  
Then, having run out of meaningless pleasantries, they kept smiling. The air around them hung and waited and grew tangibly heavier with every passing beat. Out of the corner of her eye, Riko saw Koganei fidget and inch towards the door. Even Mitobe, standing behind him, opened his mouth for a silent breath - then snapped it shut again.   
  
“Actually...” said the knight, and suddenly looked thoughtful. “I was wondering if you might give lessons?”  
  
It took a moment for Riko’s mind to process this. “L-lessons? For what?”   
  
“For cooking, of course!”  
  
Caught completely off-guard, Riko gaped blankly at him. “For  _cooking_ \--” she said, incredulous. Now it was Hyuuga’s turn to kick her in the shins before she could say something stupid. She drew herself up, fussed with a sleeve and regained enough control of her face to say, “My apologies, but we’re all much too busy with our palace duties to have the time. I’m very flattered by your - request, but it’s just not possible. I am sure the gladiator hall’s cooks are doing an excellent job already.”  
  
“Aha,” Kiyoshi said and looked sheepish. “Really no? I suppose it’s quite a silly request.”  
  
“We appreciate the, uh, appreciation, and we will certainly continue to remember the gladiators in future,” she said, and began to herd him back towards the door. He let her, and out in the kitchen yard, gave her one last mild smile, not at all put off by the fact that he was being chased out.   
  
“It was a pleasure to meet everyone,” he said. “If any of you are fans of the gladiators, look for me at the hall and I’ll be happy to show you around.”  
  
“I’ll let them know,” she agreed and then stood and watched him meander past the chicken coops and into the herb gardens, until he turned the corner that would take him to the western gate of the outer palace.   
  
The moment his tall, broad back vanished from sight, Hyuuga hissed, in tones that suggested he was this close to losing his temper and shouting, ”That guy is up to something.”  
  
“Yes,” Riko said, brooding. “Who could see this morning’s stew and still ask for lessons?”  
  
Hyuuga paused. “Um. It wasn’t that bad...”  
  
“You don’t have to force yourself to make me feel better,” she said, still gloomy. “Maybe we shouldn’t keep sending them to the gladiators. They must have noticed something.”   
  
Why had she agreed to be head cook again? Oh, yes, because all the boys were terrified of the Queen and couldn’t be trusted to hold intelligent conversations about the daily menu and kitchen budget with her. How hard could cooking be? she’d thought to herself. Hard enough to be trouble.   
  
“Maybe Mitobe could make something nice and we could send that as an apology,” she said.  
  
“I don’t think that’s the problem here!” Hyuuga said, exasperated. “It’s not like he accused us of trying to poison anyone! He must have been looking for an excuse to snoop around. He tried to walk in like he owned the place!”  
  
“But what does he want? Since when do knights care about the palace kitchen?”  
  
They stared at each other, at a loss for answers. “We’ll definitely need to keep an eye out for him,” Riko mused. Kiyoshi Teppei didn’t seem like the kind of guy to give up easily.   
  
And there was Hiraiwa’s cargo from earlier this morning too. She’d been thinking of looking into that anyway, and now she had the perfect excuse. “Maybe some of us should head down to the gladiator hall. He did invite us, after all.”  
  
“There’s just no way he’s as stupid as he looks,” Hyuuga muttered.   
  
Riko agreed. “He has to know more than we think.”

**End Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which gladiators gladiate and Furihata meets the love of his life - maybe.

The training dummy, past survivor of more abuse than it deserved, cracked ominously at the final impact of Kagami’s punch - then broke in two to collapse creakily at his feet in a pile of snapped wood and frayed padding. 

He stared at the remains of the former dummy, and looked around to find half the training yard gawking at him. Okay, so maybe he’d gone overboard, but it’d clearly been falling apart anyway. 

He heard Tsugawa’s laugh before he saw him. “All better from that stew yesterday, huh?” he called. 

“Speak for yourself,” Kagami said. “Didn’t you get knocked out too?”

Tsugawa looked pained. “It only paralysed me for a while. I didn’t eat enough to get knocked out like you.”

They shared the mutual sympathy of fellow sufferers for a grim moment, before he prodded the dummy with a foot and said, “You should probably clear this out and hope they don’t try and dock your pay for it.”

Kagami pulled a face. “Can’t blame me if they don’t keep their equipment in better shape,” he grumbled, but bent to pick the pieces up and lug them off to the trash pits at the back of the gladiator hall, to be burned later. 

Kiyoshi found him just as he was heading back to the training yard, and Kagami eyed him with poorly disguised suspicion. Was he going to say something about the broken dummy? And Kagami wasn’t sure if yesterday’s stew incident had been on purpose - he probably hadn’t expected it to knock Kagami out cold - but from what he’d heard, it wasn’t the first time the palace had sent dubious leftovers to the gladiator hall. 

Apparently oblivious to Kagami’s wary glower, Kiyoshi said with easy cheer, “How are you feeling? I was a pretty worried yesterday, but it looks like you’ve recovered fine.”

Kagami shrugged. “I’m fine, it wasn’t really as bad as it looked,” he said.

“Haha, that’s good to know. I’m really sorry, you know, we’ve never had that happen before with the food from the palace,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a vaguely puzzled expression. “You were asking about the roster, weren’t you? We had a training injury, so there’s an open slot today. It’s a late morning slot so you won’t have much time--”

“I’ll take it,” Kagami said promptly, before he could change his mind.

“Great!” Kiyoshi said. I’ll put your name up on the schedule. You can grab your weapon from the armoury, if you haven’t found anything yet.”

Kagami nodded. He’d picked his sword from the armoury yesterday, so he didn’t need to do much to get ready anyway. The knight waved him off with a parting mention of, “The first fight for the day’s about the start, if you’re interested in watching.”

He returned to the training yard to find it strangely empty. The others must have gone to watch the fight, like Kiyoshi had said. Kagami stared. Sure, the gladiators watched the fights, especially for the good fighters, or opponents they were likely to meet in the ring, but what was so different about this fight that it had _everyone’s_ interest? 

In the end, he headed to the arena himself, curious to see what was going on. The gladiators didn’t get seats above the podium like the paying spectators, but they got a closer view of the fights from the ground level enclosures that surrounded the fighting pit. Kagami jostled through the crowd until he spotted Tsugawa near the front and made his way over.

“What’s going on? Who’s up?” he asked. The fight hadn’t started yet, and the arena beyond the iron-barred gate was empty, though if he looked up, he could see the stands filling up. 

“Papa’s up for the first round. They say he’s up against some mystery masked gladiator no one knows!”

“Masked gladiator?” Kagami said, dubious.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have a name, he’s just written as ‘Unknown’ in the lists, and the others say he always fights in a mask. No one knows who he is, but he’s definitely not one of us.”

“Probably just some bored noble or prince or something,” Kagami said, unimpressed. Was this some kind of fashion among the Nijira island aristocracy, posing as gladiators to preen and prove their skills? Maybe they needed better hobbies around here.

“Everyone says he’s good, though. He’s been fighting for months and he hasn’t lost once so far.” 

Just then, the drums started, a rolling wave of thunder that was too loud to talk over. A final boom of the gongs announced the start of the fight, and the gates on the opposite sides of the arena cranked open. Papa strode into the sunlight, and shaded his eyes to look up at the cheering crowd before giving them a cursory wave. Then his opponent came into view, the crowd roared, and he turned his attention back to the arena.

The mystery masked fighter wore, as promised, a mask of black silk that covered the top half of his face, down to his nose. He was over average height, but not tall, leanly built, and he wore the same plain tunic and trousers that the other gladiators wore. His most distinctive features were his scarlet hair, much brighter than Kagami’s, gleaming red-gold under the sun’s glare, and the fact that he wore two swords.

The gladiators paused to eye each other across the arena, before crossing the white sand to meet in the middle. Beside Papa’s tall, gangly frame, the masked gladiator looked even smaller than he really was. It didn’t seem like an even match on the surface, but Kagami thought he sensed power under the masked gladiator’s cool purpose, and he had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be an easy fight for Papa. 

Some gladiators liked to play to the crowds, exchange a few insults before they started. Papa didn’t usually bother with the small talk, but his masked opponent today was unusual enough that even he noticed. 

“The Nijira islands allow even children into the arena?” he asked in bemused tones, loud enough for the closer spectators to hear him. “That seems unusually barbaric, even for your people.”

The masked fighter’s only reply was to draw his two swords with a single fluid move and, without a word of warning, close the distance between them. 

Papa’s chief strengths in a fight were his height and reach; combined with his spearwork, most opponents had a hard time even getting close enough to do much damage before he took them out. He wasn’t the fastest fighter though - now, he threw himself back with a yell of surprise, but it was already too late. The masked gladiator knocked his feet out from under him with some movement Kagami couldn’t catch, and then Papa was on the ground with a sword through his stomach. 

Around him, he felt all the watching gladiators freeze in shock. Even the spectators above had been stunned into silence. You could get some pretty unpleasant fights in the arena, but this had been the single fastest, most merciless fight Kagami had seen yet.

The gong crashed, breaking the silence and signalling the fight was over, and a pair of healers sprinted into the arena, followed by a handful of gladiators to help with the heavy work. They loaded Papa onto a stretcher, sword still buried in his gut because if they removed it now he’d bleed to death, and quickly carried him off. If they were fast enough, Papa could still survive this. Hopefully. 

Kagami turned to stare at the masked gladiator, who had stood and watched as the healers took Papa away, leaving him a solitary figure under the spectators’ whispering scrutiny. Now, he sheathed his one remaining sword and stalked out of the fighting pit, sparing only a single, icy glance for the watching gladiators before he vanished into the shadows of the enclosures. Around Kagami, the gladiators shook off their shock and a storm of exclamations and discussion was rising. 

“What the hell was that?!” “I knew that ruthless bastard was going to pull something like this one day!” “Come on, he’s never done something this bad before.” “Must have got tired of everyone thinking he’s just some noble poser.” “Shit, you think Papa’s going to make it?” “The healers are pretty good, but he better hope he’s lucky.”

Who _was_ this guy? Kagami had met some amazing fighters in his time, but fighters who could take spare efficiency and turn it into something like grace - well, he wasn’t Himuro’s match for that, but he was definitely on a whole different level. Kagami was still feeling pretty sore about being dragged here from Ao, but if there was a chance he’d get to face the masked gladiator in the arena - he bared his teeth in a grin. 

Maybe Aka was going to be worth the detour after all. 

 

 

Akashi recognised the heady, weightless feeling of rage gone too far as he stalked out of the central pit and through the darkened corridor that led to the gladiatorial hall.

He had calculated his attack with pinpoint precision. Thanks to the expertise of Aka's royal healers – trained by the Midorima family themselves - Papa Mbaye Siki would survive today's encounter. Depending on the outcome, his return to the arena might take weeks or months.

In any case, Akashi wouldn't have to look at the man again, which suited him just fine.

He could just imagine the lecture Kuroko Tetsuya would be giving him if his best friend were here right now. Well, Tetsuya wasn't here, and neither was Shuuzou, and Akashi didn't regret what he'd just done.

He _very much_ didn't regret it.

He reached the end of the corridor and climbed the narrow, windowless staircase that led to the walled courtyard at the back of the gladiator hall. From there, he went inside by way of a back door. The building was deserted; all the gladiators were busy watching the next fight.

Akashi went upstairs and headed for Kiyoshi's suite of rooms. The overseer wasn't here – he was in the arena, with the other gladiators – but he'd made a copy of the key for Akashi, on the understanding that it was only to be used on gladiatorial days. Akashi unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Kiyoshi's sitting room was modest but neat. The sliding windows were shut, leaving the room dim, but a little daylight filtered in through the translucent paper screens. Aside from a low table and some cushions stacked up in a corner, there was a wooden clothing chest beside them which Kiyoshi had left for Akashi's use.

The mask was the first to come off, once he had bolted the door behind him. He undid the knotted silk and pulled the black mask away from his hair. Next, he stripped off his bloodied clothing and put on the semiformal kimono and hakama he usually donned as everyday wear, both also made from silk.

Akashi folded up his mask neatly and tucked it into the clothing chest.

The ruined tunic and trousers, he tossed into a corner for Kiyoshi's servants to deal with.

Once dressed, he emerged from Kiyoshi's suite, once again the crown prince of Aka. He locked the door behind him, then slid the key underneath the door, as per the usual arrangement.

From there Akashi went back downstairs, exited the building by way of the side-door, then took a long but carefully-mapped route to the main entrance of the arena. He'd done this half-a-dozen times now and the routine was familiar.

Taking this particular series of side-roads didn't _guarantee_ that he wouldn't run into some knight or palace noble who'd start asking inconvenient questions, but it did minimise the chances.

As usual the stands were packed. Bypassing the spectators, he took a passageway that led around the side of the arena and up to his personal box, where he found the Lady Himuro waiting. She was seated in the shade of an oil-paper parasol affixed to a bamboo stand. A palace attendant stood discreetly behind her.

(This time last year it would have been Tetsuya and Shuuzou accompanying Akashi in the crown prince's box. But today he was alone, and entertaining a stranger.)

The spectators broke out in applause as another fight ended. Akashi stepped into the box and took his seat on the marble bench next to Lady Himuro.

“Milady,”

“Prince Seijuurou.” She offered him her usual smile: a minor curve of the lips, demure yet inviting. Today she wore a fern-colored skirt, floor-length; and an umber blouse embroidered with white lotuses.

“Are you enjoying the games?”

“They are most educational,” she said, as the central fighting area emptied and the announcements began for the next fight. “I had not expected to see such a broad variety of martial styles and weapons used in a single city.”

“The seaports and aerodromes of the Nijira Islands have always brought to our shores innumerable visitors from far and wide,” replied Akashi. “We are fortunate that we can draw on the traditions of many lands to enrich our own practices – whether it be fighting or magic or cuisine.”

Something flashed in her eyes, briefly. “I look forward to seeing what the capital of Rakuzan has to offer.”

The gongs resounded, and a cheer went out across the stands. The next pair of gladiators were coming out. The first one emerged from the gate at one end. Long-haired, with a red headband tied across his forehead. Akashi recognised him as Tanaka, one of the midlist fighters: not unusually skilled, but not weak either. As usual, he fought with trident and net.

The other fighter, young and russet-haired, must be an import from Ao. Muscular and tall, though not as tall as Akashi's opponent from this morning.

His weapon of choice interested Akashi, however. A heavy straightsword, forged in the Teikou style and wielded two-handed; it must have been the only one of its kind available in the gladiatorial armoury. The palace supplied the gladiators with weapons, but only with second-rate ones. The combatants who weren't indentured to the throne usually chose to bring their own swords, but the rest of the fighters didn't have much of a choice.

This young man – almost a boy, really; he appeared to be Akashi's own age – seemed to know what he was doing though, despite the undoubted inferiority of his weapon. He held his sword with grace as he bowed to his opponent, his long blade tucked discreetly to one side – and then the second gong signalling the beginning of combat began, and he went on the attack.

The crowd was on his side. Crowds were predictable: they liked young and attractive fighters. (They especially liked female gladiators, but no woman had fought in the Rakuzan lists for several years now, not since the crown princess of Murasaki had decided she would compete in every royal arena in Nijira.)

It was a swift strike, but completely transparent; Tanaka dodged easily. The red-haired gladiator swung his blade again, and this time struck metal. There was an exchange of blows, sword against trident.

The red-haired fighter's blade glanced off the trident's handle and for a moment there was a pause. Tanaka had been driven back towards the edge of the area, closer to where Akashi and Lady Himuro were sitting.

Akashi saw something glinting on a chain around the red-haired fighter's neck. Some kind of pendant? It couldn't be enchanted, or else it wouldn't have passed Kiyoshi's scrutiny.

Tanaka cast his net aside – as he should have from the beginning, if he'd had the proper measure of his opponent. The trident-and-net combination was showy, good for entertaining an audience, but it was inefficient.

The outcome of this match was clear.

Lady Himuro said, “What a pity. I bet a silver coin on Tanaka to win. But that was without having seen either of them fight.”

“You have good eyes,” said Akashi. He had expected her to have some knowledge of martial arts; wealthy foreign women did not travel alone in the Nijira Islands without means of self-defense.

“Not as good as yours, I hear,” she said. “Are the rumours true, that the Aka royal family possess the gift of magical sight?”

Below, in the arena, the two gladiators circled each other, catching their breath.

Akashi said: “Milady, I can hardly divulge to you all of Nijira's secrets in a single day.”

Again, the red-haired fighter moved first, surprisingly graceful. Tanaka barely managed to block the sword as it came arcing towards him.

Said the Lady Himuro: “The red-haired novice gladiator fights well.”

“He's overeager and he leaves openings. He's fortunate Tanaka doesn't have the speed or the intelligence to take advantage of them.”

“He's by far the best fighter I have seen this morning.” She turned to meet his eyes. “Except for one.”

Akashi didn't blink. “You are referring to the masked gladiator. He has been making quite the stir in the lists this month. I am sorry I missed the chance to watch him.”

“A young masked boy with a dual-wield technique, katana and wakizashi. Not the sword style one would expect to see in a gladiatorial competition filled with indentured slaves and mercenaries in search of prize money.”

“We get all sorts here,” Akashi said. His participation in the Rakuzan arena was not a complete secret, but it was nevertheless important to keep the matter discreet. Furthermore, Lady Himuro seemed unusually inquisitive for a Teikou noblewoman.

Shouts of encouragement sounded among the spectators. Tanaka had fallen, the red-haired gladiator's blade to his throat. It was over.

Lady Himuro turned to the palace attendant beside her. “Could you find out for me the name of the gladiator who just won? I would love to fight him.”

“Foreign visitors are always welcome to participate in our contests,” Akashi told her. “At their own risk, of course.”

In answer, she smiled, elegant and opaque. 

 

 

It was taking a while, but Furihata Kouki was beginning to piece the puzzle together.

Some of it, anyway. The new head cook and her four chefs were careful and close-lipped around the kitchen hands, so getting direct information from them was impossible. There were clues here and there, however, even though Kouki hadn't figured out where they fit yet.

Firstly there was Riko. She might not be able to cook, but she was sharp as a tack. In the space of two or three days she'd figured out the kitchen routine down pat: mealtimes, banquets, logistics, negotiating with the wagons from the local farms that came each morning, bringing their largesse of fruit and vegetables, eggs and milk.

She kept the kitchen larders carefully stocked, even accounting for the ridiculous waste that ensued when her recipes failed, and she'd set up a large writing slate at one end of the kitchen, on which she wrote all the required meals and events the kitchen had to cater for, so that everyone was prepared ahead of time.

If it weren't for the fact that Kouki was currently the fourth-best cook in the kitchen (and he was no trained chef), life would actually be better under Riko's regime than it had been under the old head cook.

She was young, no more than a year or two older than Kouki himself; and the other four chefs – Mitobe, Izuki, Hyuuga, and Koganei – seemed to be about her age.

All five of them spoke with a mild but unmistakable upper-class Murasaki accent. Had the Murasakibara decided to send assassins against the king and queen of Aka? It seemed unlikely. Prince Seijuurou had always been on good terms with the Murasaki princes and princesses.

The pretty-faced chef with a propensity to crack awful jokes, Izuki Shun, seemed to be a spellcaster of some sort. He'd used his magic to clean up one or two of Riko's disasters; Kawahara and Fukuda had watched in awe as a mere incantation transformed a fishy and oversalted broth into a fragrant, delicate clear soup.

There weren't too many schools of magic in Nijira. There was one on Aka, in the city of Rakuzan itself; but it was a small school and Kouki had grown up on this island. He was fairly sure he'd recognise any student who had come from that college.

Neighbouring Midori had at least three schools of magic – but far-off Murasaki to the east was also famous for its spellcasters.

What did Riko and her friends want?

Kouki wondered for the fiftieth time, as he sliced through the usual several dozen scallions for the day, whether he ought to report this to someone.

If only Kuroko Tetsuya or the Nijimura were still staying in Aka Palace! Kouki would almost prefer being arrested to approaching Steward Mibuchi or Prince Seijuurou about this.

His train of thought was interrupted by Riko's voice, bright and sharp and clear, calling out over the din of the kitchen: “Furihata!”

Kouki was so startled he nearly sliced the skin off his knuckles. “Yes?” he said, whirling around.

“Can I get you to go down to the palace herb garden and collect more green shiso? The first batch of soba noodles.... didn't quite work out,” she said, shamelessly. The first half-dozen times Riko had ruined a palace dish, she'd blushed. Now she simply solved the problem when it arose, usually through delegation, daring her underlings by the glint in her eye to offer criticism if they were brave enough.

Kouki was definitely not brave enough. He nodded, stammered, and within seconds was out of the kitchen on his way to the culinary gardens.

He liked visiting the palace herb and vegetable gardens. They were small and neat, and always smelled green and tantalising. The royal gardeners usually took care of them, but the kitchen hands helped as well. Kouki had been working in the palace kitchen for nearly a year and by now knew exactly which herbs, edibles, and fruits grew here.

He stepped out from between the yew hedges that bordered these small gardens and then paused. There was a woman there, dressed in Teikou-style finery. At first glance she looked familiar. At second glance – she looked up, turning when she sensed Kouki's presence – she looked beautiful.

Skin fair as jade, hair black as ebony. Her eyes transfixed Kouki's gaze – they were midnight-dark, daylight-clear.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice was low, almost husky.

“G-g-g-good afternoon,” said Furihata, his words almost a squeak. It was then he remembered where he'd seen this lady; she'd dropped by the kitchen yesterday to compliment the kitchen on the food at the queen's luncheon.

He hadn't seen her up close yesterday, though.

“You must be one of the kitchen servants,” she said. “I am Himuro Tatsuko of Teikou. Is it okay if I have a look around?”

“Um, no. I mean, of course.” Furihata wished he could sink into the ground. Hurriedly he remembered to bow, and then bowed again for good measure. “You are very welcome here, Lady Himuro.”

She smiled a sharp smile. “What is your name?”

“Furihata Kouki. Please call me Kouki.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kouki.” She bent low then, and then reached out to pluck a leaf of trefoil and then breathe in its scent. “What a refreshing herb this is. The spices and medicines of Nijira are entirely new to me.”

“That's trefoil,” said Furihata, gratefully seizing on the distraction to force his attention away from her long graceful fingers and the elegant shadow of her collarbones. “Also known as wild parsley, although it has a milder scent. It's good in soup and salads, but it's also used in medicinal tonics, particularly for women.”

“Hmm. How fascinating.” She let the small leaf flutter down to the garden path they were standing on. “I see that even the kitchen hands of Nijira have educations worth mentioning.”

Kouki was bright red now. “That's not--” he began. “I really don't know that much--”

“I realise you must be busy, but could you spare me a few minutes for a tour of this small garden?” she said, glancing at him. Her gaze was gentle, inquiring, curious.

Her smile was merciless.

Furihata could barely manage breathing, let alone thinking.

“Of course I will,” he said.

**End Chapter 3**


End file.
